


my focus, my control is all you

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dry Humping, Friends to Lovers, Gay Chicken, Getting Together, M/M, Making Out, but only kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23118166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “You’re an asshole,” he sighs, but doesn’t make any move to stop Donghyuck, letting him replace his teeth with his tongue and mouth to soothe the sting. He feels warm all over, burning like he’s in direct contact with the sun.In a way, Mark supposes he is.(Or, Mark decides to play a game with Donghyuck and realizes some things along the way.)
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 50
Kudos: 1036





	my focus, my control is all you

**Author's Note:**

> fic title is from nct 127's baby don't like it

* * *

  
  


Mark finds himself on top of Donghyuck. 

It takes them both by surprise, neither expecting their usual push and pull routine to end like this. But really, it’s inevitable. Mark can’t always deflect. Like a string getting pulled more and more with Donghyuck’s ribbing, he’s bound to snap one day.

So here’s how he snaps: pinning Donghyuck on the couch by sitting on his lap, a hand clamped on Donghyuck’s shoulder, thighs on either side of Donghyuck’s hips. It’s the closest they’ve ever been, if not the most intimate. Mark can see the surprise color Donghyuck’s face cherry red. Can feel Donghyuck’s warmth seeping through the layers of clothing separating them. 

He’s kinda breathless when he asks, “So, who’s the coward, now?”

Donghyuck’s quick to compose himself. “Ah, Mark hyung, who would’ve thought?” He matches Mark’s smile with a grin of his own, wrapping his arms around Mark’s waist. “Not gonna bolt this time?”

It’s really cute how Donghyuck’s trying to save face. Mark lifts his free hand to cup Donghyuck’s cheek, the pad of his thumb stroking the flushed skin. “I like where I am. _You’re_ the one who looks like you’re suffering.”

“It’s because you’re heavy,” Donghyuck retorts, only realizing a half-beat too late he’s accidentally given a tacit admission. His face crumples under Mark’s grin. “I hate your big head.”

Mark can’t help but laugh. “Do you want me to get off you, Donghyuck-ah?” And it sounds patronizing even to his ears. Donghyuck bristles.

“Smugness looks ugly on you, _Mark_.” He knocks off Mark’s hand on his face with a flick of his wrist. “But at the end of the day, we both know you’re no match for me.”

“You sure about that?” 

There’s a beat of silence. Mark’s heartbeat shifts in it. He watches Donghyuck’s eyes sharpen, feeling like he’s suddenly being held at knifepoint when their gazes meet. He doesn’t dare breathe.

“Want to find out?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The thing is, Mark has never met someone like Donghyuck. No one is as annoying, or as ridiculous. Smart, too, always equipped with a comeback, eyes shining with mean wit.

He’s larger than life, truth be told, and Mark often finds himself anticipating what he’ll do like an audience at the edge of his seat. Waiting for another one of his antics, his pranks, his jokes. Donghyuck’s really good at those. 

He’s also good at getting under Mark’s skin, nail-bitten fingers digging past the surface level of whatever he’s feeling and bringing it out in its fullest depths — anger, and stubbornness, and endless amusement. The kind of flustering that feels like his insides are disintegrating from Donghyuck’s lack of respect for personal space. A glumness that makes him miss Donghyuck’s presence when he’s away.

He feels a new one now, a rush of reckless bravery that steers the panic away before it can settle. Making him want to prove something, to put Donghyuck in his place. 

Later, he’ll think of the consequences. For now, Mark lets it consume him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The goal of the game is simple: fluster the other as much as possible. The bolder the move, the better. Last one to back down wins.

Wins what?

Well, it doesn’t really matter — just as long as someone does.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“I feel like I’m watching an animal documentary about weird mating rituals,” Hendery says, sipping his iced tea as Mark and Donghyuck feed each other fries.

It’s past lunch now, but they’re eating in a fast-food restaurant inside the campus, books and laptops open on the table as they wait for their next classes. Donghyuck has one of his legs slung over Mark’s, pushing his knees apart. Mark’s hand is curled on Donghyuck’s inner thigh, thumb brushing against the worn denim of his jeans; the other, he’s using to nudge Donghyuck’s mouth open.

There’s a smile, and then Donghyuck’s taking in the proffered fries, but not before licking Mark’s fingers, tongue warm and wet as it meets Mark’s skin.

Past the propensity to push Donghyuck away, Mark just grits his teeth as he wipes his fingers with a tissue. Across from them, Xiaojun makes a face. “You two are gonna make me lose my appetite.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Mark wouldn’t really call himself competitive. Sure, he gets this tunnel vision where he only sees his goal and does everything to accomplish it — even pushing himself to the point of detriment — but that’s because you don’t get the gold by half-assing things, and Mark always goes for the gold.

He isn’t competitive, he’s just the type to either go all-in or not at all, and he thinks he can do better than the stunt Donghyuck pulled this afternoon.

So before Donghyuck can enter his dorm room, Mark decides to throw reticence to the wind and pulls him in for a kiss.

He feels Donghyuck’s entire frame freeze, mouth parting in surprise, and Mark smiles triumphantly against the softness of it, bringing up his hands to slide along the sharp lines of Donghyuck’s jaw, deepening the kiss.

It only takes a second for Donghyuck to recover, and then he’s kissing Mark back with twice the fervor. Like he’s a storm too big to handle, except Mark doesn’t get swept away — he stands his ground, angling his head better, the reminder that he hasn’t kissed anyone in so long giving way to a desperate, deprived urge that rivals Donghyuck’s force.

The kiss is too messy, too sloppy, all teeth and tongue clashing, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when Donghyuck is making these sounds at the back of his throat as Mark pulls at his hair. Not when Mark is losing himself to this sensation of closeness.

“Was that why you were being so quiet before?” Donghyuck asks immediately after they part. His chest is heaving, and there’s a pink flush high on his cheeks. Mark can’t stop staring at it, at the bruised redness of his mouth. He knows he looks the same.

He blinks, swallows. He’s still busy chasing his breath to answer.

“You were thinking of kissing me this whole time?” Donghyuck presses.

Mark scrubs a hand down his face. “Don’t make it sound like that.”

“Why? What are you gonna do? Make me shut up?” Donghyuck steps closer, eyes trained on Mark’s mouth. His hands come up to grab at Mark’s collar. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it myself for you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They can’t seem to keep their hands off each other after that.

Donghyuck has even started to wear lip balm, almost obsessively, more a taunt than a necessity. Mark tastes its artificial watermelon flavor and takes great pleasure in licking it all off, until the only thing making Donghyuck’s mouth red is the pressure of Mark’s mouth, his teeth on his.

In retaliation, Donghyuck takes his time mapping the skin of Mark’s throat, tongue against his pulse point, feeling it beat faster than ever before. Mark tangles his fingers in Donghyuck’s hair, pushes him closer, hissing when Donghyuck bites down hard on a particular spot.

“You’re an asshole,” he sighs, but doesn’t make any move to stop Donghyuck, letting him replace his teeth with his tongue and mouth to soothe the sting. He feels warm all over, burning like he’s in direct contact with the sun.

In a way, Mark supposes he is.

Donghyuck pulls his head back, surveying his work. His eyes shine with wicked glee. “You love it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Jeno raises his eyebrows when Mark meets him and Yangyang later. “Well, now we know why you’re late,” he says as they start their walk to workshop class.

Mark thinks about how Donghyuck pressed him against a bookshelf in the library’s fiction section, and finds that he isn’t sorry at all. Yangyang squints at his bruise, poking it with eager fingers. “Whoa, but this is kinda impressive, hyung.”

“Don’t let Donghyuck hear you say that. He’s smug enough as it is.”

Other students walk past them, with some stealing glances at Mark’s neck that he pretends not to notice. Jeno shakes his head. “Hyuck’s a menace.”

Mark smiles in agreement, equal parts fond and resigned. “Don’t I know it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


But also —

There are moments, just a handful of them, where Donghyuck is surprisingly soft, bravado nowhere to be seen, his gales receding into mild wind.

“You ever think about how we’d meet in a different circumstance?” Donghyuck asks. He’s curled on Mark’s chest on the couch, nose pressed on the juncture of Mark’s neck and shoulder, hair tickling Mark’s mouth.

“Like, if we didn’t meet at school?” Mark asks, pressing Donghyuck’s hair flat with his palm. He can still remember it clearly, his first meeting with Donghyuck. He went into the wrong practice room, catching Donghyuck in the middle of working on a routine. He ended up staying after Donghyuck caught him, two dance performance majors hanging out and dancing together. They’ve been inseparable since. “Have you thought about it?”

Donghyuck hums. “I like to think we’d meet as trainees under the same company. Wouldn’t that be funny, hyung? Debuting together in an idol group?”

It would be. Mark thinks it would be amazing, too, indulging in Donghyuck’s flight of fancy. Being on the same stage, looking out at the same crowd, knowing they’re growing together and sharing their hardships and success.

“Hey, Hyuck?” 

“Yeah?” Donghyuck looks up at him through his lashes. If Mark squints, he’d be able to see the day-old bruises on his collarbone peeking under his shirt.

He swallows the sudden lump in his throat. It settles right back in his chest. “I’m glad I met you.”

Donghyuck blinks, and then he’s pressing his smile against Mark’s lips. “Me too, hyung.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The problem is that they never really discussed the parameters of their game. There aren’t any established rules aside from reciprocate and retaliate; there isn’t even any agreed-upon prize after the last one standing wins.

Now, Mark wishes they had. It’d be so much easier answering Jaemin, then.

“What do you mean you have to ask Donghyuck before you can say yes?” Jaemin frowns in confusion. He’d accosted Mark just as he was on his way to the on-campus coffee shop. “I’m setting you up on a date with Jungwoo hyung — remember him? You told me he was cute.”

Sunlight pierces through the gaps of the leaves from the tree above them, and it oddly feels like a spotlight trained on Mark. He gently removes Jaemin’s arm intertwined with his. “Yeah, Jungwoo hyung is cute. But I don’t know how Hyuck would feel about me going on a date when…”

“When you’re basically together at this point?” Jaemin completes for him, eyebrows raised. Mark squeaks in protest. 

“We’re _not_. We’re just — we’re playing our game.”

A bike whizzes past them, stirring their hair in its wake. Jaemin rocks back on his heels, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. Then, his eyes are sliding over to Mark, all narrowed like Mark’s a specimen on a glass slide. “Why is the game so important again?”

He shrugs, “it’s fun. I’m having fun, that’s all.”

“Yeah, we can all see that.” It’s hard to look at Jaemin’s microscope eyes. It’s even harder to look at the smile that comes after, the sharpness of it unsettling Mark. “Alright, hyung. Go play your silly game with Donghyuck. I’ll just tell Jungwoo hyung you’re not available.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Jaemin tried to set me up on a date today.”

Donghyuck ceases his typing. He doesn’t look up from his laptop screen, though. “What’d you say?”

Mark shrugs. “I’m busy,” he lies. The typing resumes soon enough, and he feels strangely relieved at the way the keys clack noisily. “Would you say yes if someone asked you out?”

Now, Donghyuck looks up from where he’s hunched over the coffee table, flashing Mark a grin that looks like he’s mocking him more than anything. Like he knows something that Mark doesn’t. “Why would I? I’m just as busy as _you_ , hyung.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Still, Mark finds himself thinking about it.

Donghyuck going on a date. Donghyuck dating. Donghyuck enjoying the date.

Would he also kiss the person the way he kisses Mark? Sometimes, Donghyuck kisses like he’s taking his time, but sometimes, his kisses feel like a suckerpunch. Would Donghyuck’s date enjoy that?

They’d probably have to end their game. They _should_ have ended their game, it’s been almost two months. He doesn’t know why they’re still playing.

There’s an answer for it, Mark’s sure, but like a word on the tip of the tongue, it’s unrelenting and stubborn. Refusing to present itself when you want it to.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Why is the game so important again?_ Jaemin had asked. Mark wishes he knew.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Unsurprisingly, the answer comes when he least expects it.

They’re in Donghyuck’s bed, backed up against the wall, and there’s a feeling of déjà vu here, with Mark on top of him again. Except this time, they’re crammed pelvis to pelvis, Mark’s gray sweatpants meeting Donghyuck’s boxer shorts, rutting against each other, building up their own rhythm.

It feels juvenile and so fucking ridiculous, but Mark’s too lost in the moment, head spinning with each clothed thrust and roll of the hip. So close yet not close enough. They could take the time and slip out of their bottomwear, but there’s just something about not making it all the way and still trying anyway that gets them on edge.

Donghyuck’s hands slip under Mark’s shirt, warm hands scorching Mark’s skin as they roam across the expanse of his torso. Mark crashes their mouths together as Donghyuck’s thumb ghosts over his nipple, feeling electric, burning hot like a firework lit up and just about to burst. 

“ _Mark_ ,” Donghyuck moans, after he pulls his mouth away to latch on Donghyuck’s throat. Mark feels Donghyuck’s heels dig further into his back, like he’s asking him to hurry up, and Mark answers by rocking his hips down fast and hard, feeling Donghyuck’s hard-on straining against his shorts. “I’m — _close_. Fuck, I’m so close,” he whimpers, breath hot against Mark’s ear as Donghyuck’s teeth snag at the shell of it.

And really, what could Mark do other than give what Donghyuck wants? The funny thing is, he _wants_ to give what Donghyuck’s wants. He’s always been wanting.

So he bucks his hips quicker, hands braced on Donghyuck’s shoulders, eyes squeezing shut as Donghyuck’s blunt fingers dig into his ribs. His panting mixes together with Donghyuck’s, a breathy cacophony that beats in tune to Mark’s pulse. In time with the grinding of their hips. It’s these, and Donghyuck’s drawn-out cry of _hyung_ that makes Mark come undone, too, spilling over himself with his breath stuck in his throat.

Afterwards, he sags against Donghyuck’s bare chest, his shirt somewhere on the bed with them. The start of everything, really; the catalyst for their one-thing-led-to-another situation.

(“Isn’t that my shirt? Hyuck, I’ve been trying to find that for days.”

“I like it. But if you want it back, you’re gonna have to take it off me yourself.”

“You’re so insufferable,” Mark had scoffed. A second later, he’s lifting the shirt up and off of Donghyuck.)

“Hyung,” Donghyuck nudges him now. “We have to clean up. C’mon, get off.”

Mark snickers at that. He’s still coming down from a high. “ _Get off_ , we just did,” he snorts, and he doesn’t have to look to see that Donghyuck is rolling his eyes at him.

“Yes, yes, you’re funny. Come on, hyung, please?”

He obliges, but begrudgingly, taking his time to unstick himself from Donghyuck. His muscles ache in protest, bones heavy, as he rights himself into a sitting position. Beneath him, Donghyuck looks — _wrecked_ , but beautiful. All soft and golden, hair sticking up in different directions.

Mark blinks. It hits him then, the answer; it’s been right in front of him, like a lamp post he didn’t see until it’s too late. The impact strikes him breathless, and he’s a still frame suspended in this moment: come in his pants, heart in his throat, an echoing in his head that goes — _I’m in love with Donghyuck_.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Mark isn’t stupid, but he’s done stupid things.

Like that time he dressed up as a toothbrush for a halloween party, just because Donghyuck was going as a toothpaste and he wanted to match with him.

Or that time he tried riding the skateboard, collecting bruises and scratches every time he fell down, all because Donghyuck said he’d look cool riding one.

Or more recently, the day he agreed to play a game with Donghyuck. The day he kissed him, or got off together, or started avoiding him for three days after realizing he’d fallen in love with his best friend during their game.

Mark isn’t stupid, but —

“You _are_ , actually. You’re stupid when it comes to Donghyuck, and you’re stupid for thinking you only developed feelings for him because of your stupid game,” Renjun tells him, disappointment showing itself in the twist of his mouth. Mark should feel chastised, but it’s hard to do so when Renjun’s frame is nearly being engulfed by Yukhei’s arms. His boyfriend wrapped around him like a cape, or something. “You’ve been in love with Donghyuck for far longer than that,” Renjun continues, and Yukhei nods solemnly in agreement.

Mark sighs at the foot of Renjun’s bed, finding that, as much as he wants to argue with Renjun’s statement, he really can’t.

Everything just suddenly makes sense, like a magic eye poster in the right angle. And that’s fucking scary, all the things that make it messy and complicated now line up together to form a perfect picture. 

He steels himself with a shuddering inhale. “I know I should talk to him, but I’m really scared,” he laughs, but there’s nothing really funny. He looks up at his friends. “I’m not gonna lose him, right?”

Renjun smiles, and it’s all the reassurance Mark needs. “It’s Donghyuck, hyung. You’ll sooner lose your sanity before you lose him.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Look who decided to show his face again.” Donghyuck’s pissed, but he’s still letting Mark enter his room. He closes the door behind him and leans against it, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “You do know that avoiding me is against the game’s rules, right? Technically, you already lo —”

“Donghyuck, stop talking about the game for a second,” Mark cuts him off. He stands in the middle of Donghyuck’s dorm, swallowing the rising pit of nerves in his stomach, and trying his best not to look at Donghyuck’s bed. To think about the mess that happened there.

Donghyuck lifts up his chin, all haughty and daring. “Why? Because you broke the rule and _lost_?”

“Because I’m trying to confess to you!”

The admission takes the both of them by surprise, Mark blinking at Donghyuck who blinks right back at him. There’s a beat of silence, and it feels eternal until it breaks with Donghyuck’s harsh scoff. Mark’s heart lurches.

“So it took us dry humping like fucking teenagers for you to realize you have feelings for me?”

His angered disbelief confuses Mark, but before he can get a word in edgewise, Donghyuck’s uncrossing his arms and striding forward, pointing and glaring down an index finger at him. 

“You’re the fucking worst, do you know that, Mark? I’ve been waiting for you to get your head out of your ass for so long, dropping as many hints as I could, but it turns out all I had to do was grind my dick against yours.”

Donghyuck’s all up in his face now, a spitfire in his own right, and Mark’s overwhelmed. “You...you could’ve just told me?” he tries weakly.

“Oh, please,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, sardonic. “You would’ve turned me down. And because you’re perfect Mark Lee, you would’ve done it gently, promising nothing would change. And nothing really would, which is _so much worse_ and I’d hate it enough to force my ass to move on from you. Date other people, marry someone else and it will take you years before you realize you shouldn’t have rejected me, _because you actually like me_ , but now it’s too late and I’m married while you’re alone wishing to have the best fucking thing that ever happened to your life back.”

Mark stares. He’s gaping, really, at the rise and fall of Donghyuck’s chest, at the glare that’s rapidly losing its sharpness. Donghyuck is so, so beautiful, Mark thinks, taking a hold of his wrist. “So,” he licks his lips, “you got it all figured out, huh.”

Donghyuck sniffs. “I had to. You’re an idiot.” 

Mark knows the growing smile on his face is probably the goofiest one he’s ever made. “You got one thing wrong, though. I don’t just like you, Donghyuck.” He uses his other arm to wrap around Donghyuck’s waist, pulling him flush against him. “I’m in love with you.”

And then they’re kissing, soft and tender, drawn-out like they’re spilling out all the words they forgot to say in the way their mouths slot together, conversing without words. It’s the best kiss Mark’s ever had.

“Sorry I made you wait for so long,” he says, later, after they’ve separated, foreheads leaning against each other.

Donghyuck snorts, pulling his head back to poke the middle of Mark’s forehead. “If you’re going to apologize, apologize for your confession. That was so lame, hyung.”

Mark laughs. He feels his heart sigh in relief. “How about a new game, then?” he offers, watching Donghyuck’s eyes light up in excitement. “Let’s go with — the one who takes the other out on the most romantic date _wins_.”

Wins what?

At this point, it doesn’t matter. Not when they already have each other.

Donghyuck grins wickedly, but the kiss he presses on Mark’s mouth is sweet. “You’re on.”


End file.
